


#11: Mirror

by RocioWrites



Series: 20 words [11]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-26
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-27 01:23:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2673632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RocioWrites/pseuds/RocioWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m enjoying your glasses.” He says hoarsely and wiggles his eyebrows making Manu chuckle and pet his hair.</p><p>“I see.” He peeks up at their reflection and avoids mentioning that he’s enjoying the mirror.</p>
            </blockquote>





	#11: Mirror

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shellaura](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shellaura/gifts).



> Happy birthday my sweet Austrian Angel ♥

Manu is standing in front of the mirror, examining himself with critical eyes and a scowl.

“What the…?” Laughter bubbles up in Mats’ throat and a hand comes up to stifle it. Manu is a mix between a giant dork and an epic fail at fashion. “Were you trying to go incognito or what?”

“Or what.” Manu mumbles, unsatisfied with his ‘disguise’.

“You know you won’t go unnoticed, right?” Mats presses. “You can try to hide that god-like body of yours but it won’t work well enough to hide the fact that you’re Manuel Neuer, 2014 Golden Gloves winner.” Manu shoots him a dirty look through his own reflection. “Just saying.” And he lifts both hands in a surrendering gesture.

Manu sighs and drops the hat. “This is ridiculous.”

Mats finally laughs at this. “It kind of is.” He says softly, approaching him, figure slowly showing up reflected on the mirror, and standing behind him a bit to the left. Mats can’t erase the grin at Manu’s so-out-of-place clothes but there’s one thing that draws his attention now that he missed at first when he had the hat on. “Glasses.” He utters without realizing he’s talking out loud.

“Yeah.”

For some reason, Manu with glasses is such a sight that leaves him with a dry mouth and an accelerated heartbeat. The clothes are awful and so not Manu is almost painful but the glasses? Well, Mats can get past those. _With pleasure_.

“Yeah.” And even though it seems he’s intently looking at Manu’s beautiful eyes, Mats is in fact looking at those glasses and the way Manu’s entire face seems so different yet the same. “Yeah, glasses.” He sounds so absentminded that Manu arches an eyebrow at him.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Mats clears his throat and nods a few times, blushing slightly because he’s an adult man for God’s sake, he can’t go all dreamy because his lover is wearing glasses! “I’m okay.” It’s his reply but his hand lifts on its own volition to touch the frame and run his index finger on it.

“You sure?” Manu tries again but his tone is low and kind, and a bit amused too.

“I like your glasses.” Mats answers after a few moments of silence, taking the item off and directing his look at Manu’s naked eyes – this time through his reflection. “It kind of suits you.”

“Thanks.”

Ironically, he doesn’t give them back, instead deciding to put them on. Manu’s face becomes a blurry haze and Mats has to blink a few times to adjust his vision - which isn’t 100% sharp with the glasses on but the smirk he barely makes out on Manu’s face is incentive enough to keep them.

He uselessly tries to assess how they look like, both standing in front of the mirror grinning openly at each other, Manu horribly dressed and him with glasses that aren’t his. They must be a sight, but then again they’re always a sight what with their attractive bodies and intense presence.

Mats smiles and with a heavy hand on Manu’s shoulder, makes him take a step back, limbs blurry but definitely willing. He steps right in front of the other, back against the mirror behind.

“Thank _you_.” And he sinks to his knees, gravity and raw want pulling him downward. Hyperactive hands do a quick work on Manu’s belt buckle and the zipper, undressing him rather rapidly, pants pooling around his ankles.

“What’s gotten into you?” Manu questions but the effect is lost by the broken moan that follows when Mats pets him through his underwear.

“I don’t know.” He whispers carelessly, enjoying the little groans and grunts that Manu is producing but it’s not enough. “The glasses.” It’s all the explanation he can give and Manu gives him a funny look but doesn’t protest. He yanks the black boxers down and Manu’s erect cock springs free. “Does it really matter?”

Manu doesn’t respond since Mats starts a viciously slow up and down with his right hand, left one shoved into his own pants. His legs tremble a bit and a hand shoots up to help supporting him, flat palm against the cold mirror, and his own eyes meet – he can see how blown up his pupils are, mouth slightly slack.

“ _Fuck_.” He mutters when Mats’ soft wet tongue takes the job and starts to lick his dick, carelessly at first until Mats deems it wet enough to try and swallow it all.

The heat envelopes him all and his throat is sinfully tight and welcoming, he experimentally thrusts into it minutely as to not choke Mats and he sees on the mirror the movement, drool dripping from his half open mouth. He thrust a few more times because _damn_ Mats has _talent_.

The shirt clinging to his chest is so awful that it somehow attracts his attention for a total amount of two seconds while Mats is gone from his spot, evidently readjusting himself on the floor and quarrelling with his own pants.

His free hand travels down and tangles in soft dark hair earning a pleased moan from Mats’ mistreated throat. “Hey.” Manu breathes out, tipping Mats face upwards – both of his hands are buried inside his underwear and it’s such a turn on.

Mats smiles hugely, glasses precariously perched from the tip of his nose but it suits him too.

“Hey there.” Mats rasps out and frees his own manhood. “I’m enjoying your glasses.” He says hoarsely and wiggles his eyebrows making Manu chuckle and pet his hair.

“I see.” He peeks up at their reflection and avoids mentioning that he’s enjoying the mirror. Looking back down, Mats is licking his lips and lazily stroking himself. “ _Mats_.” And it’s barely a heated whisper.

However, it sets the kneeling man into action; eyes shining with lust, he launches forward unceremoniously until the tip of Manu’s dick touches the back of his throat. He hums contently to make Manu moan a broken half sound of pleasure and desire.

There’s no need for words or explanations of what each wants, there’s only this insatiable heat and need and _now_.

A melodic chant of Mats’ name leaves past Manu’s lips and he can’t really take it, trusting enough to get some gratification his knees wobble on their own volition. Manu tries to breathe properly, slowly, and he soon finds himself sighing constantly, forehead against the cool mirror.

Mats’ mouth is prodigious in a way that has Manu pressing forward, forward, _forward_. Is there a way for them to fuse into one being? Because that sounds magical. Hips aching, his hand tries the hardest not to hurt Mats’ scalp, Mats has such a nice hair too, soft and lovely at touch and Manu _loves_ it just as much as the rest of his body.

Mats chuckles around his mouthful.

Manu is talking out loud. He’s talking nonsense about his hair and about the both of them becoming one person and it’s endearing.

“Don’t laugh.” He reproaches in a strangled voice, a misty patch on the mirror near his nose and mouth.

With an obscene ‘pop’ sound, Mats distances himself enough to grin up at him. “Don’t babble then.”

Manu is amazed at the fact that the other is still masturbating himself and yet has the presence of mind to keep such an incredible blowjob and his voice quite steady.

He’s so screwed when it comes to Mats, he has to admit that much to himself. And not only because of the perfect blowjobs and nice hair.

“ _Mats_.” He whines pitiful and needy, it’s impossible anything coherent will come out of his mouth right now. “Mats, _please_.”

The other obliges.

Tight wonderful heat pushes him over the edge in no time, Manu is unsure if he keeps babbling or not but hell if he cares. Mats swallows around him and it almost makes him mewl out of bliss.

He collapses, out of breath and happily drowsy. His smile is lazy and bright and Mats smiles at him, petting his hair a moment.

The glasses are still precariously perched on the tip of Mats’ nose and it’s adorable – and _so_ hot when you notice the trace of semen in the corner of his mouth, lips plump and reddened.

“Hey.” Mats says on his lips, stealing a chaste kiss.

“Hmmhey.” Manu isn’t coherent enough, no sir. Mats chuckles at him again and bites his ear playfully. “You still haven’t…” He notices.

“Yeah.” And it ends in a moan when big hands find their way towards hot _hot_ flesh. “ _Manuel_.”

The glasses finally fall, crashing against the floor when he throws his head backwards, cold mirror being the support against his clammy back. Manu’s hands are a miracle amongst common people and Mats revels on this fact.

It’s strange laying half on the floor half against a full-length mirror, breath catching at the end of every exhalation, both half naked and smiling like drunkards.

Mats reaches out for the glasses and Manu laughs.

“Really?”

“Of course.” He challenges and after inspecting them, he puts them on Manu. “You look fuckable with them.”

Manu grabs his wrist before it can leave the vicinity of his face. “That should be my line.” And he kisses each digit.


End file.
